


A Vulcan Carol

by falsepremise



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Inspired by A Christmas Carol, M/M, Romance, classic literature, ghost story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 10:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12886413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsepremise/pseuds/falsepremise
Summary: Spock is visited by three ghosts representing the past, the present, and what is yet to come. Can a Vulcan turn his life around in a single night? A Vulcan version of the classic ghost story by Charles Dickens: A Christmas Carol, with classic lines and language interwoven throughout. Please note, this is the Vulcan version. Although I hope that this story will prompt bouts of Christmas cheer in all who celebrate Christmas, Christmas itself is never mentioned or eluded to.





	A Vulcan Carol

Spock the Elder was dead to begin with. As dead as a doornail. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story that I am going to relate.

Though Spock the Elder was dead, Spock the Younger lived on. He had lost so much: Vulcan, his mother, his elder self, his relationship with Nyota Uhura, and though Jim lived Spock was haunted by those terrible moments when he had watched him die. 

Grief weighed heavily on Spock. Gradually, piece by piece, he hardened his heart and withdrew from his friends. He warped Surak's teachings in his own mind, telling himself that his coldness and bitterness was logic. He became a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, driving himself and the crew ever forward with a ruthless dispassion. Hard and sharp as flint, secret, and self-contained. As solitary as an oyster.

Jim Kirk, his captain and his friend, tried to reach him in vain. 

'I couldn’t be angry with him if I tried,’ Jim explained to the ship’s doctor Leonard McCoy, ‘who suffers the worst of Spock’s bitterness? Himself always.’

McCoy would nod in agreement and take another sip of his drink. 

'I just wish he hadn't taken it into his head to dislike me so,' Jim would lament, pouting as he played with his glass.

'He doesn't dislike you,' McCoy would argue knowingly, 'trust me Jim, he doesn't dislike you at all.'

'Bones, he said that if he could work his will he would purge Starfleet of illogic...' Jim moaned. 

McCoy snorted, 'yeah that sounds like the emotionless hobgoblin.' 

'Me, Bones,' Jim sighed, 'he means me. He thinks I'm unfit for command.' 

'Don’t be ridiculous, Jim. If he thought that then he wouldn't stay on the Enterprise, would he? That wouldn't be logical, would it?' Bones reasoned.

'I guess,' Jim replied taking a large mouthful of scotch.

But Jim continued to worry. It certainly seemed as if Spock disliked him very much. Of course, any captain would find it difficult to think that their first officer doubted their abilities. But what made it all the harder was the fact that Jim was secretly in love with Spock. Oh, how he longed to melt that cold Vulcan heart!

One evening it would all change. Spock was sitting alone in his quarters in silent meditation, as was his habit in the evenings, when his door opened and closed by itself.

Intrigued, Spock walked to the door and opened it again but the corridor was empty.

'It must be malfunctioning,' he reasoned. It was, after all, the only logical explanation. 

Spock turned away from the door to return to his meditation and came face to face with Spock the Elder. Except Spock the Elder was incorporeal. Almost as if he were some kind of ghost. 

'Impossible,’ Spock muttered.

Spock the Elder merely raised a single eyebrow.

Spock the Younger took this as a cue to explain the nature of the impossibility, 'you are dead.'

'Indeed I am,' Spock the Elder replied.

'So, logically, you cannot be here,' Spock continued.

'And yet I am,’ Spock the Elder retorted, gesturing to his own form, ‘why do you doubt your senses?'

'Because they can be tricked,’ Spock said, ‘you may be the result of gamma radiation or a rare virus or even a transporter malfunction. Yes, there's more gamma than ghost about you.' 

'An attempt at humour?' Spock the Elder observed, 'a poor one but still, perhaps I am not too late. Spock, listen to me, I come to you from beyond death to give you a message: you have taken the wrong path in life. You must turn your life around immediately.' 

Spock raised an eyebrow, 'this life is mine. You had yours.'

'And I made the most of it,’ Spock the Elder replied, ‘Spock, no amount of regret can make amends for one life’s opportunity misused' 

'I have no idea of which you speak,’ Spock answered. 

'You will be haunted tonight by three ghosts,’ Spock the Elder said.

'Haunted?' Spock said with a sigh,' I've already had enough of that.'

Spock the Elder continued without acknowledgement of his younger counterpart’s comment, ‘you’ll meet the first ghost at one hundred hours.' 

Spock the Younger signed again, 'must I?'

But Spock the Elder had already faded away. 

Spock had to admit that he was profoundly disturbed by the spectre. He tried to meditate but peace was elusive. He reasoned with himself: it was not real. Ghosts were not real. But he found himself lying in bed counting down the moments anyway, waiting for the ghost to appear. At last he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Finally, it was one hundred hours and Spock woke with a start. For a second nothing happened. He was still alone, the room silent and dark. Then, suddenly, a ghost appeared standing in the middle on his room. Spock recognised the form immediately: Surak. It was Surak as he appeared in an illustration within a Vulcan history book for children. It was Surak as Spock had imagined him as a child.

'You are not Surak,' Spock said at once, standing in one fluid motion.

'Logical,' the ghost replied, 'indeed I am not. I am the ghost of the past. I have taken the form of your childhood mentor. Come with me.'

The ghost reached out and touched Spock's meld points and though the ghost appeared incorporeal Spock could feel the touch. And in a moment they were on Vulcan, oh, thirty odd years ago, watching a small half-Vulcan boy. Spock watched fascinated as he saw his childhood play out before his eyes. He saw I-Chaya, he saw himself bullied and standing up to the bullies, he saw his father and - oh - his mother. His beautiful mother as she was in life stood before his eyes. 

'You understood the way of Surak then,' the ghost explained, ' understood and lived it intuitively. See how you lived in harmony with the logic of the universe.' 

Spock watched enraptured as the years ticked by, watched his childhood pass in a blur and all the while thinking: I am standing on Vulcan again. But the years kept whirling, dancing their terrible dance. He saw himself reject the Vulcan Science Academy and leave for Starfleet, saw himself as a cadet. He knew what was coming and he wanted it to stop but he couldn't look away. Finally, the horrible moment same: Vulcan was destroyed before his eyes once again and his mother with it. The scene froze. Spock felt torn, gutted, as if he would die from the sheer pain of it. All the horrific grief that he had so carefully buried in cold indifference came flooding back as he stared at the image of himself reaching out desperately to his mother as she fell to her death on a vanishing planet.

'Now you fear the world too much,’ the ghost explained, ‘you fear the pain that living can bring. All your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond pain. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one. '

Spock stared at the scene. 

'All of this is gone now,' he said softly.

'That is why you must remember it,' the ghost replied in a matter of fact tone.

'I don't want to remember it!' Spock screamed in rage.

In an instant they were back in Spock's quarters. 

'You must remember Spock,' the ghost said warmly, 'it is your past. Time is a path from the past to the future and back again.’

‘Leave me!’ Spock screamed violently, ‘Leave me be!’

‘Expect the second ghost at two hundred hours,’ Surak said fading into the night. 

Spock fell to his knees weeping openly as he hadn’t done in years. The tears poured for Vulcan and for his mother. His distress was so extreme that he lost all sense of the time. Slowly, his crying settled. Then, he heard a noise coming from the bathroom that he shared with Jim. 

Music? Jim wouldn’t be playing music in the bathroom. Certainly not at that volume and at this hour.

Spock approached the door and opened it.

'Come in, -- come in! and know me better, man! I am the ghost of the present. Look upon me! You have never seen the like of me before!'

Spock stepped through to see a ghost that looked disturbingly like Jim, except incorporeal. The personality, however, was all wrong. Just like Surak, this was not truly Jim. 

'You… you look like Jim...' Spock stuttered.

'Do I?' the ghost chortled ‘and what I wonder could that mean?

Spock felt his fact heat with a green blush against his will. He couldn’t stop it. After the events of the evening so far his control was poor. 

‘You are in a bathroom,' Spock observed.

'Am I?' the ghost laughed, 'come in, come in and know me better.'

'You’ve already said that,' Spock said, eyebrow raised.

'Have I?' the ghost replied, pausing as he frowned in thought. Finally he shrugged it off, 'my mind is filled with the here and now. Come, come there is much to show you.’

The ghost stepped forward and touched Spock’s mind meld points.

They were instantly transported to the observation deck. Spock noticed immediately that he was also incorporeal. He surmised that he was present merely to observe not to interact.

Before them both was a young man in a blue shirt sitting in a computerised wheel chair watching the stars flash past. 

Christine Chapel walked into the room. She marched straight past Spock as if he wasn't there at all towards the young man.

'Who is he?' Spock asked the ghost.

'A recent transfer. Ensign Timothy Cratchit' 

'I knew I'd find you here, Tim,' Christine smiled, ‘I have good news. Dr McCoy has cleared you for duty. But he wants to see you regularly. He'll have me hunting you down if you miss a check-up mark my words.'

‘Yeah, yeah, ‘Tim replied, ‘I won't miss them Chrissie. Now come and look at the stars with me.' 

They stared at the stars together for some time. 

'You know, Chrissie, I hope I never forget what a miracle all of this is. What a wonderful miracle. We are flying through the stars and visiting other worlds: exploring the universe. Hardly anyone makes it off my world, for obvious reasons. And we aren’t exploring merely for the sake of it. We are forging connections, building a better life, peace across the galaxy, a better way for all of us.’

'You are an idealist, Tim,' Christine said with a warm smile on her face. 

Tim laughed, ‘Shouldn't we all remember our ideals? Isn't that why we are here?'

Christine shook her head still smiling, ‘well, you’ve certainly reminded me of mine.’

‘Ah, the Great Bird blesses us all,’ Tim whispered to himself. 

‘Chrissie, do you want to get something to eat with me?'

Christine nodded, ‘I'd love to, Tim.’

They left the observation deck together, side by side.

‘An extraordinary ensign,’ Spock replied with a raised eyebrow, ‘Science or medicine?’

‘Science. A biologist.’

‘He said that few members of his species leave his planet,’ Spock reasoned, ‘I conclude that his species is physically incapable of walking under standard conditions. Is he from a planet with significantly lower gravity?’

‘He is indeed.’

‘He has made great sacrifices and will suffer much pain,’ Spock said.

‘He would say that the pain is worth it to live his ideals,’ the ghost replied, ‘I have more to show you.’

The ghost touched Spock’s meld points again and they were instantly transported to Jim's quarters.

Jim and McCoy were drinking together.

‘He hates me, Bones,’ Jim said.

‘He doesn't, Jim,’ McCoy sighed, ‘He doesn't hate you.’

‘He looked right at me today when he said illogic needed to be purged. I just... If he thinks I'm not up to this maybe he's right. Maybe I shouldn't be captain.

‘Jim...’ McCoy shook his head.

‘No, really,’ Jim continued, ‘I love it. I do. But maybe I've got to accept that I'm not cut out for this.’

‘Dammit, Jim,’ McCoy answered, ‘that isn't even what this is about and you know it.’

‘What is it about then?’ Jim asked taking a sip from his drink.

‘This isn’t about you being a good captain. This is about you thinking that your feelings aren’t reciprocated. Dammit, Jim. Just tell him. I can't keep hearing this, Jim, I'm a doctor not a kindergarten teacher. Talk to him. Please. Find out once and for all.’

Jim nodded, staring at his drink and they both knew that Jim would never tell Spock how he felt. McCoy sighed in frustration and walked out of the room. 

‘Jim thinks that I dislike him?’ Spock asked the ghost.

‘So it seems,’ the ghost replied, ‘do you dislike him?’

‘No. He's the best captain in the fleet and...’ Spock paused, a green blush dusting his cheeks.

‘And?’ 

‘And my friend.’

‘Friend?’

‘T'hy'la,’ Spock said, ‘He is my t’hy’la.’

‘Have you told him that?’ the ghost asked.

Spock stared at the ghost. The ghost that was wearing the face of the person he loved, ‘No. I have not.'

The scene melted away and they were transported back to Spock’s quarters. 

'Expect the third ghost at three hundred hours,' the ghost of the present whispered as it faded away.

Spock sat in silent meditation, processing the evening’s insights and waiting for the third ghost. When the third ghost appeared it did not speak. It was a faceless being in a long dark cloak: the ghost of what is yet to come. 

'I fear you most of all,' Spock said.

The ghost of the future said nothing.

'Will you not speak to me?'

The ghosts silently lifted its bony hands towards Spock’s meld points. 

Spock found himself in a bar. It was crowded, there was music and noisy conversation. Exactly the kind of place that Spock disliked. Once again he appeared incorporeal himself. He turned to the ghost, 'why have you brought me here?'

The ghost silently pointed to a man sitting in the corner on a bar stool: Jim. He was older. But not by much. Maybe five years or so. His face looked weary and sad and he leaned over his drink. 

'Hey, aren't you someone famous?' a scruffy human customer asked as he paid for a drink.

'Nah,' Jim answered 'you are mistaking me for someone else.'

'You are,' the customer repeated, 'you are that Jim Kirk guy.'

Jim sighed, 'I am that Jim Kirk guy.'

‘Why did you leave Starfleet?' the customer asked tapping his fingers on the counter.

'So I could stop having this fucking conversation and finish my drink okay?' Jim lashed out.

'Alright, jeez don't lose it man. If I was captain of a starship I wouldn't give it up. That's all I'm saying.'

'Yeah, well I wasn't really suited for it,’ Jim replied, ‘Spock is captain of the Enterprise now and everyone is better off.'

The scruffy man contemplated this as he took a few sips of his drink. 'Oh well,’ he said, ‘I bet you’ve got some stories to tell.’

Jim shrugged and took a big swig of his drink.

‘I bet you banged some hot alien arse though, huh? What's the hottest alien you fucked? Orion? Klingon? A friend of a friend of mine reckons he banged a Vulcan. Said she was wild. Probably bullshit but what about you? Ever banged a Vulcan? C’mon, you can tell me.'

Jim began to sob. 

'Man, you really are nuts. No wonder you lost your command,' the customer said in disgust, walking away with his drink.

'This is terrible,' Spock said, 'Jim resigns from Starfleet? This must not come to pass.' 

The ghost reached out and touched Spock’s meld points again and the scene dissolved. Spock found himself standing on the observation deck. Chapel and McCoy were there talking. 

'He killed him,' Chapel said.

'He made a command decision,' McCoy replied.

‘You are defending him? Tim is dead. Dead!’

McCoy sighed, ‘You know what? I'm not defending the green blooded Hobgoblin anymore. First he drives Jim out and now he is captain and he is a fucking mess. This would never have happened if Jim was here.’

Again the ghost touched Spock’s meld points, the scene dissolved and Spock found himself standing in front of Starfleet headquarters. It was recognisably Starfleet headquarters but it was different. Spock surmised that this was far into the future. 

Spock could over hear two cadets talking, their PADDs abandoned.

'I mean they saved the Earth multiple times then Kirk just fucks off, quits Starfleet and drinks himself to death. So Spock becomes captain of the Enterprise but he absolutely loses the plot. Cold, callous, ruthless. Of course he said it was all logical but anyone who has spent time with Vulcans knows that kind of shit isn’t the true way of Surak.’

'What's your point?' the second cadet asked.

'Why?’ the first cadet said, ‘don’t you wonder why? What happened that we don't know about?'

‘I don't know,’ the second cadet shook her head, ‘But you left out the part where Spock is found dead and alone in a seedy motel. The Vulcans hushed it up of course but there were plenty of rumours.’

‘Yeah,’ the first cadet agreed, ‘the most popular one, of course, that he died because he refused to take a mate.’

‘23rd century history is so weird,’ the second cadet sighed. 

‘I understand,’ Spock said to the ghost, ‘I will not shut out your lessons. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. Tell me that I may undo this. Tell me that I may ensure that such a conversation never takes place.’

But the ghost stayed silent. 

‘Tell me, tell me, that this is not fixed, that I may change this future,’ Spock pleaded, ‘please tell me. Why will you not speak to me?’

Spock fell to knees, clutching at the hem of the ghost’s long robe, ‘Why would you show me this if it cannot be changed? Please tell me that I may sponge this potential future out of existence. Tell me that I can change.’

Spock woke in his own bed alone. The ghost was gone and it was morning. He bolted upright and ran to the door still in his pajamas. Opening it he called to an ensign walking past, 'What stardate is this?'

The ensign answered and Spock sighed in relief, ‘the spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they can.’ 

‘Um sure,’ the ensign replied, looking around him for help and finding none, ‘of course they can.’

‘Find Timothy Cratchit,’ Spock commanded, ‘and tell him to meet me on the observation deck at nine hundred hours.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the ensign said, relieved that the First Officer was again making sense.

Spock shut the door. He put on his uniform with haste feeling giddy with nerves, ‘I’m as light as a feather,’ he whispered to himself in astonishment. He hadn’t felt this way for so long: happy.

Uniform on he marched straight to the bridge where he knew Jim would already be. Entering the bridge he immediately approached the command chair. Jim was sitting at the command chair looking at the vid screen. 

Nyota tried to stop him but Spock waved her away. He only had eyes for Jim – beautiful, perfect, adorable Jim. 

'Jim,’ Spock spoke loudly, ‘you are illogical and oh so human and you inflame me with emotion.'

Jim’s eyes darted from the vid screen to Spock. He looked stunned, gutted. 

‘Spock,’ Jim whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You are sorry?’ Spock replied, ‘Well, I am not going to stand for it any longer.’ 

‘I understand,’ Jim whispered, his face downcast.

‘And therefore,’ Spock continued, ‘I am going to kiss you.’

‘What?’ 

‘Kiss you,’ Spock repeated, ‘On this bridge in front of all our crew.’

‘And the Klingons?’ Jim asked, pointing to the vid screen.

Spock turned and saw several very amused Klingons. 

‘Affirmative,’ Spock gulped, ‘and the Klingons.’ 

Spock leaned forward, bending down to Jim’s level and pressed his lips gently against the lips of his beloved captain, his t’hy’la. 

'I am in love with you, Jim,’ Spock whispered.

'I love you too, Spock,’ Jim whispered in return.

'From now on I will honour the true way of Surak,’ Spock explained to no one in particular, ‘living in harmony with the logic of the universe. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future, devoting my life to the noblest of Starfleet’s aims: the pursuit of knowledge and the fostering of peace amongst diversity. For time is a path from the past to the future and back again. The present is the crossroads of both.’

‘Okay...’ Jim said, ‘Spock, are you feeling well?’

‘Quite well, Jim,’ Spock replied, ‘I had an epiphany. I am quite changed by it.’

Jim smiled warmly, his whole face lighting up.

Spock was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more. He kept to the true way of Surak and went down in history as an outstanding Starfleet officer. He married Jim in both the human and the Vulcan way and together they were the best command team the Federation ever knew. 

And Timothy Crackit, who did not die, became friend to them both and, in time, captain of his own ship. 

It was often said of Spock that he was a shining example for all of the Federation, truly understanding as he did both the aims of Starfleet and the way of Surak. Yet, whenever Spock was complimented on this he raised a single eyebrow and quipped that every sentient being alive possesses the knowledge. Therefore, truly, may it also be said of us and all of us. 

And so, as Timothy Cratchit was fond of observing, 'may the Great Bird bless us, everyone'.


End file.
